


Gifts

by SonicaDarkness



Category: Fame: The Musical - Margoshes/Levy/Fernandez
Genre: (Sort of) Secret Relationship, Bisexual Greta Bell, Bisexual Joe Vegas (Implied), Coming out (sort of), Don't trust Greta with planning stuff, Don't trust Myers with telling people off, Esther is not good with emotions, F/F, Female Mr. Myers, Female Mr. Sheinkopf, Flower Symbollism, Flowers, Fluff, Greta is devious, Implied homophobia, Joe being Joe, Lesbian Esther Sherman, Love Letters, Native American Esther Sherman, Nick Piazza is done with life, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:24:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicaDarkness/pseuds/SonicaDarkness
Summary: After seeing Ms. Sherman writing a letter in English Class the day before Valentine's Day, Mabel becomes convinced that their teacher has a secret boyfriend. Upon learning this, the teachers have to find a way to fix it before Ms. Sherman finds out - though, their methods arequestionable.





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everybody! Nice to meet you, I'm new here! B3  
> This is my first fanfiction for Fame! Because I just finished a performance of it with my school, and there is basically no content so I have to make the content. But I digress.  
> This is an idea that I've had for awhile now, and it explores one of the more rare pairings (even though the Musical itself makes it glaringly obvious) that I'm a big fan of.  
> Just as a warning before you read: someone _does_ get outed later in this story. Take note that it's not a malicious thing, and the character(s) that is outed is already publically out, it's just a matter of professionalism in the workplace.  
>  Also, please note that this fanfiction has not been Beta Read, so any mistakes and inconsistencies are entirely my own. If there's anything I can improve on with this, please let me know, as I always appreciate feedback.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fanfiction that is way longer than I originally planned it to be!  
> 

“Pssst! Hey Nick…”

No, he wasn’t going to fall for it this time.

“Nick…!”

Nope. Definitely not.

“Look at me. Nick…!”

Just keep writing, just keep writing…

“Niiiick… Nick…!” 

“ _What_ , Mabel?” Nick whispered back, finally turning his head the slightest bit too look at the blonde girl. “We’re supposed to be _writing_ , right now.”

“Oh please, it’s not like Ms. Sherman’s paying attention.”

“She’s _always_ paying attention, Mabel.” Nick scolded, not daring to move his body from the position it was in, “You know her as well as I do; she notices _everything_!”

“Nuh-uh!” Mabel countered, gesturing towards the front of the room, “She’s not even looking at us. She’s too caught up in whatever she’s writing.”

Nick highly doubted that. After two years of being in Ms. Sherman’s class, all of them had grown accustomed to the English Teacher’s habits and behavior. She had unbelievable hearing and had a habit of roaming around the room when they were working, her heels clicking menacingly against the tile as her dark brown eyes examined all of them with frightening precision. When she did this, all of them knew better than to try talking to one of their classmates if they weren’t doing group assignments. Even when she wasn’t roaming the room, they knew better than to try.  
Five feet two inches ( _with_ her heels) and tiny, Ms. Sherman shouldn’t have been as frightening as she was. But all of them had learned within the first week of their Freshman year at P.A. that she was _not_ the person you wanted to cross.  
Which was why Nick had a very hard time believing that she just wouldn’t be paying attention to them in class one day. Because she was always paying attention.

“Come on, Nick…!”

“No, Mabel, I’m not getting in trouble because of you again…”  
“That was _one_ time, and it wasn’t even that bad…!” Mabel remarked, “You’re one of her favorite students, anyways. Trust me on this, just look up at her.”

“Mabel…”

“Just look at her…!”

“ _No_ …”

“Two seconds, that’s it…!”

“ _Alright_ , alright…” 

Already regretting his life choices up to this point, Nick slowly raised his head from where he had held it hovering over his paper, wincing slightly at the crick in his neck that had formed due to the tension. As he raised his head, his eyes slowly came up with it, and he tensed as he got ready to throw his head back down to where it had been should he find that Ms. Sherman was, indeed, scanning the room.

But she wasn’t.

Just as Mabel had said, Ms. Sherman wasn’t watching them at all. Instead, she was partially bent over her own desk, wrapped up in her own writing that none of them had previously noticed she was doing. Nick sat there, watching her for a few moments as she moved her pen across the paper in front of her, before faltering ever so slightly and pausing in her motions to think. Nick half-expected her to suddenly look up at that moment, her cold eyes gliding over the classroom from behind square spectacles, searching out anyone who wasn’t doing their work like they should be.

Except… she didn’t. She just kept her eyes on the paper, for a good three minutes, and didn’t look up once.

Now _that_ was weird.

“See?” Mable whispered, “I _told_ you…!”

“What is she doing…?” Nick asked, “I’ve seen her grade papers all the time during class, and she’s never distracted… Heck, I’ve watched her grade _Tyrone’s_ mid-term, and she was still looking up every now and then...”

“Maybe she’s writing a love letter…!”

“ _That’s_ your immediate solution?”

“Well, she could be…!”

“Yeah, _right_.” Nick scoffed, shaking his head, “ _Why_ would _Ms. Sherman_ , of _all_ people, be writing a _love letter_?”

“Because tomorrow is _Valentine’s Day_ , duh…!”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Valentine’s Day is when you give special things to your _Valentine_. Duh…”

Nick sighed quietly and shook his head, placing his hands on his temple.  
“Yeah, okay, sure. But that doesn’t mean she’s dating anyone…”

“Well, why not?”

“Have you _met_ Ms. Sherman?”

Then, suddenly, Ms. Sherman stood up.  
_BACK TO WORK!_  
Without a second thought, Nick nearly slammed his head back into the desk, searching desperately for the place where he left off in his writing, hoping beyond all hope that she hadn’t seen or heard him talking with Mabel (oh, who was kidding? _Of course_ , she probably heard them). If she saw _any_ of them doing something they weren’t supposed to, she’d have their heads for it.  
Well… she’d have _Tyrone’s_ head, anyway.

“Alright, class.” Ms. Sherman began in that authoritative tone, drawing everyone’s attention up to where she stood at the front of the room. “Upon looking at your recent marks,” there were several contained hisses in the class, “which were less than satisfactory for _most_ of you,” which brought on several rueful glances in the directions of Nick, Iris, and Schlomo, “I’ve decided to make an offer to you out of pity - but just this one time. I’ll give bonus marks to the person who can come up with a sentence that includes the words, or variations of, ‘important’, ‘mesmerizing’, and ‘enraptured’. If there’s more than one that I like, then each of those people gets bonus marks. If not, you don’t get anything.”

The whole class had fallen silent by this point, over a dozen pairs of eyes staring up at their teacher as they slowly digested her words.  
Come up with a sentence for her… Including three words… For bonus marks.  
Bonus marks?  
…  
BONUS MARKS.

“Well?” Ms. Sherman pressed about seeing their dumbfounded faces, “Get to work!”

Nobody needed to be told twice. There was the loud shuffling of books and papers, the screeching of chairs against the tile, the bantering and arguing of countless familiar voices, as nearly everyone in the class raced to the shelves in back to grab a Thesaurus and a poetry manual.  
Nick, meanwhile, watched in fascination as every one of his classmates fought over a word bible and rushed to bow to the will of their English Teacher.  
He heard Schlomo whistle quietly as they watched the war that threatened to break out at the back of the room.

“That is _sad_ …” he said with a raise of his eyebrow.

“And talk about desperate…” Iris agreed.

“This is Ms. Sherman’s class, they’ll do _anything_ for half-decent marks.” Nick, pointed out.

“True…” Iris said with a shrug, “God knows some of them need it.”

She didn’t have to specify that she was talking about Tyrone - they all knew Tyrone wasn’t great with academics.  
Nick knew as well as anyone that the students’ behavior at their teacher’s offer seemed little over the top; but if he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t quite as ridiculous as it appeared. Ms. Sherman did not make her classes easy. She taught lessons as thoroughly as she could, and offered help and support when she was asked as long as it was reasonable, but she wasn’t an easy teacher. She believed in dedication and hard work (go figure…), and religiously stated that if they wanted to pass, they’d show her those things. Meaning that she did not take unnecessary pity out on anyone - and she most _certainly_ did not give out bonus marks very often.

Nick had gotten that opportunity _once_ back in Freshman Year, after he had gotten a less than satisfactory score on his English Test, because it just _had_ to be on the one section he wasn’t good at (he swore he’d finally figure out how to spot vague symbolism someday). Fortunately, Ms. Sherman had given him the opportunity to raise his test score if he did some extra work for her during his spare time. However, Nick knew that wouldn’t happen with just anyone - Ms. Sherman had stated before that the only reason she gave him that opportunity was that she knew how much his grades and schoolwork mattered to him, how much time he put into his studies, and that she knew that he would get it done.

That was why Nick didn’t say anything as everyone raced back to their desks, almost falling each other as they raced to see who could come up with the best sentence first.

“ _See_?” Mabel spoke as she sat back down at her desk with a poetry book and a Thesaurus in hand, “What did I tell you?”

“What _did_ you tell me?”

“I told you she’s writing a love letter!” Mabel said excitedly, “I mean, come _on_! ‘Important’, ‘mesmerizing’, ‘ _enraptured_ ’?! Those words put together into a whole sentence is the _perfect_ recipe for a love letter!”

“Seriously?” Nick sighed, exasperated, “She could be writing anything.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like a short story, or… a poem, or a romance book… or a report on a romance book!”

“So you agree on the romance part, then?”

“Alright, let’s just _say_ your right, and that she’s writing a love letter.” Nick started, “Why would she be using all of those words to write about a boyfriend? I can understand the ‘important’ part, but ‘mesmerizing’? ‘Enraptured’? That just doesn’t make sense…”

“Oh, poor, sweet Nick Piazza.” Mabel sighed dreamily, “One day you’ll understand how love works. _One day_.”

Nick rolled his eyes and turned back towards the front.

“I got it!” Lambchops announced, jumping up in her seat, curls bouncing with her as she nearly vibrated.

“Yes, Grace?” Ms. Sherman called, shushing everyone else in the room. Upon realizing that it was Grace Lamb who had come up with the first sentence, everyone braced for impact.

“‘Important, mesmerizing, and enraptured; words to describe something you care… deeply for, and something that means the world to you. They are most often used for this because they’re all nice words and have really deep meanings.’” Lambchops said, looking proud of herself. 

Ms. Sherman, however, just stared at her. The disappointment on her face was overpowering.  
Sighing irritably, Ms. Sherman pushed her glasses up on her face.  
“Okay… _Clearly_ , I wasn’t specific enough.” she muttered, shaking her head, before addressing the class in full once again, “Write it as if you’re writing a letter to someone, _not_ an essay. Go.”

Then everyone was off again, back to work.  
“Dang it!” Lambchops audibly cursed to Schlomo beside her, “The _one_ time I finally get it like a half-decent essay!”

Nick smiled briefly at Lambchops’ despair, before acknowledging the uncomfortable and foreboding feeling of eyes staring into the back of his head. Slowly, Nick turned ever so slightly in his seat to look over towards Mabel. The shit-eating grin on her face was a sight to behold.

“Would you stop?”

“You just don’t wanna admit that I was right!” Mabel exclaimed, bouncing in her seat excitedly.

“You don’t know if you were right or not! So she’s writing a letter, _big deal_! It could be fictional for all we know.” Nick suggested, “Just because she’s writing it, doesn’t mean that she’s writing to someone _real_.”

“Except she totally is!” Mabel replied, flipping through the Thesaurus in her hands.  
Nick just shook his head and sighed. He knew there was no point in arguing with Mabel on this - she was going to believe whatever she wanted, and Nick thought that he might as well let her. It didn’t matter to him either way if Ms. Sherman was actually writing a love letter or not, but he highly doubted it.  
After that, it didn’t take long before another hand went up. And another. And another.

Kevin offered a sentence that sounded like a robot had written it. Ms. Sherman shook her head, telling him to work on his grammar.

Tyrone came up with a sentence that was… pretty decent for him. Nick had seen Iris helping him with it, and she was the one who read it aloud. It was longer than it needed to be, and said something about ‘endlessness’ and ‘importance’. Ms. Sherman had regarded it briefly before saying that she would consider it. Tyrone had never looked more triumphant in his life.

Nick couldn’t remember what Joe had said, because he had permanently blocked it from his mind. Ms. Sherman sent him out into the hall.

There were many others, like Stacey (whose words were probably _laced_ with something), and Goody, and even Mabel, but none of them were able to come up with anything that catered to Ms. Sherman’s preferences. She was picky about very few things - proper sentence structure, grammar, tone, and wording were among those few things. Tyrone and Iris seemed the only ones who had so far catered to those preferences.

“‘Of great importance you are to me, but I am unsure of how to piece together the proper words to describe your mesmerizing glow, as that of the sun, and the way that you have captured me in your radiance like a beautiful blossom.’” said Denise, her voice shaking all the way through in fear of being shot down. But then Ms. Sherman stopped the clacking of her heels against the tile ceasing. The whole class held their breath, and Denise looked like she was about to pass out.  
Nick watched Ms. Sherman as she raised her eyebrows at no one in particular, eyes looking somewhere off to her right, fingers tapping against her opposite hand as she stood in silence. The silence did not last long - it never did.

“Not bad.” Ms. Sherman commented, before continuing in her pacing.  
From where he was sitting, Nick could see Denise beaming with delight.

“Anyone else?” Ms. Sherman asked as she stopped at the front of the room, turning to face the rest of the class. Her cold eyes scanned the crowd for the brave ones (or the foolish ones) who would try and offer her something.

Seeing as how that had been the only real compliment given throughout the whole class, no one dared to raise their hands. Open comments from Ms. Sherman were rare - it was unlikely that more than one person would get one, despite her earlier claims.  
“Alright, then.” Ms. Sherman announced with a note of finality, grey eyes landing on Denise once more, and then Iris and Tyrone, “Denise, Iris… and _Tyrone_ ,” she herself sounded slightly disbelieving that she was actually saying his name, “Good work. I’ll add this to your test scores.”

Denise bounced in her seat joyfully, her excitement barely contained. Tyrone put much less effort into containing his excitement, letting out a loud, “WOO!” as Iris clapped him on the back and laughed.

Ms. Sherman sent a sharp glare his way that almost immediately subdued his overwhelming display of joy, though there was no shame on his face whatsoever.  
A rumble of banter had already emerged from around the room, filled with light protests and almost offended scoffs. Ms. Sherman turned her cold gaze onto the rest of the students, sending the students quickly back into silence and slowly back to their work. Satisfied, Ms. Sherman walked back to her desk and got back to her own mysterious project, only glancing up a few times in the following five minutes to check that they were all still working.  
It could’ve been because of this that no one bothered to mention that Joe was still outside.

 

~*~

 

Lunchtime had come with a welcome ring of the 12:15 bell, releasing all students out into the halls to race towards the cafeteria and filling the tight space with bustling bodies, questionable lunches, and the distant screams of other theatre students. The usual.  
Nick sat with his usual crowd; Serena, Mabel, Denise, Shannon, and Carmen, even though Carmen was, arguably, more Mabel’s friend.  
The few of them almost always sat together at lunch, with the addition of Joe, who they were sure was currently getting scolded by Ms. Sherman for his… suggestion… during class. However, whether or not Sherman was going to scold him or not was a question that Nick had never thought he would be asking himself. Because as much of a skeptic as he was, even _he_ couldn’t deny the strange way that Ms. Sherman had been acting that day.

Hardly watching them during class, asking them to come up with a rather flowery sounding sentence for her (which wouldn’t have been _that_ unusual, except for the fact that it wasn’t for any obvious lesson and Ms. Sherman _never_ asked for help if she could help it), and not even paying attention to them as they quietly left class a few minutes after the bell rang were definitely _not_ typical Ms. Sherman behaviors. So whatever ‘punishment’ Joe was getting at the moment (if any), Nick doubted it was all that severe, even for his perverted self. 

There was one thing that _was_ for sure, though. And that was that Mabel was determined to tell everyone she possibly could about Ms. Sherman’s odd behavior. More specifically, she was determined to tell everyone she possibly could about the love letter that she was _convinced_ that she had been writing.

“I _guess_ it kind of makes sense…” Denise shrugged, “But Ms. Sherman is… _Ms. Sherman_. I can’t picture her with a boyfriend.”

“It’s not like we actually know anything _about_ her.” Carmen stated, “Who are _we_ to say whether she has a boyfriend or not? Besides, _I’d_ say it’s about time - maybe it’ll make her less uptight.”

“See!?” Mabel exclaimed, gesturing to Carmen while she looked over at Nick, “ _Carmen_ even agrees with me!”

“So?” Nick asked, “People agree with you. Alright! That doesn’t mean Ms. Sherman is in a relationship. And even if she is, it’s not any of our business!”

“ _What’s_ none of our business?”

Just like that, Joe entered the scene, sliding into the seat between Denise and Mabel and raising his eyebrows suggestively in interest. Great, Nick thought. Now they were going to have the _pervert_ talking about their English teacher’s supposed relationship.

“Nick doesn’t believe that Ms. Sherman was writing a love letter in English.” Mabel said without hesitation, “When she _obviously_ was!”

“You don’t _know_ that!”  
“Hey! Nick’s right, we can’t just _assume_ that Ms. Sherman was writing a love letter during class…” Joe said calmly, pausing for a moment before looking over at Nick. “Even though she totally was.”

“Come _on_ , not you too…”

“Hey, I’m just stating facts, dude!” Joe said defensively, raising his hands jokingly. “I mean, come on, it _was_ kinda obvious!”

Nick just shook his head before putting his face in his hands. It was official. If Joe was convinced that Ms. Sherman was writing a love letter, then there was no way he was going to win this fight. 

“Come on, Nick…” Serena said softly, making Nick look up at her through a gap in her fingers. “I know that we don’t really _know_ anything for sure, like if Ms. Sherman was writing a love note, or if she has a boyfriend… but…” Serena shrugged her shoulders meekly, her cheeks dusted a light pink, “… if she did, would that _really_ be such a bad thing?” 

He looked at her for a moment, considering the words from the back of his mind that she had quoted almost perfectly.  
Finally, Nick sighed, and let his shoulders slump. He took his face out of his hands and shrugged. 

“I mean, I _guess_ not, but…”

“Why are you so against it, anyway?” Shannon asked. “You act like romance is _bad_! I get that you’re not the most romantic type yourself, but don’t rain on other peoples’ parades, dude!”  
Nick didn’t say anything, but just shook his head with another sigh, and went back to poking at his food. He vaguely felt Serena patting his upper arm, but didn’t say anything.  
All was silent.

… 

“So. Do you guys think Ms. Sherman actually _does_ stuff with this dude, or do you think she’s more like a nun?”

“ _JOE_.”

“WHAT, I’M JUST SAYING!”

“I’m not hungry anymore…”

“ _Lord, please forgive him, for he knows not what he does_ …”

“WHAT?!”

“SHE’S OUR _TEACHER_!”

“ _Who’s_ your teacher?” 

Half of the table jumped in surprise at the newcomer’s voice, while the other half slowly turned to meet their possibly cruel fate at the hands of one of the teaching staff. There, behind Joe, Mabel, and Denise, stood Mrs. Myers, eyebrows raised and looking more than a little concerned as to why their table had just been screaming a few moments ago.

“Oh, _hey_ , Mrs. Myers!” Joe greeted enthusiastically, raising a hand as he turned sideways in his seat, “How goes it?”

“Fine.” Mrs. Myers answered plainly, “I should be asking all of _you_ the same thing, considering all the _screaming_.”

“Don’t worry, it was just Joe being Joe.” Denise shrugged, nonchalantly pushing her lunch away from herself. 

“ _That’s_ not surprising…”

“Hey!”

“ _Anyway_ …” Mrs. Myers continued, “What was this I heard about... one of your _teachers_?”

The entire table fell silent at that. Welcoming and casual faces quickly morphed into pale, wide-eyed slates of fear.  
Myers found this concerning and suspicious.  
Nick had never seen Joe nor Mabel more pale.  
Carmen didn’t seem to care that much, but she refused to look Myers in the eye.

None of them wanted to go down for this, and it was more than likely that one person would end up sacrificing the others. When put in a desperate situation (such as being suspected of gossiping, or fighting over the last batch of fried chicken in the cafeteria) high schoolers were prepared to do anything to survive.

Nick vaguely recalled the famed ‘Great Food War of ‘81’ that had occurred in the cafeteria the year prior because Kevin thought that it would be a great idea to throw his potato salad at Stacy, who had retaliated by dumping her entire bottle of Coca-Cola down the back of his shirt. Soon after, a full-on food fight had erupted, dividing the students into groups who either fought, fled, or hid. The group of them (minus Carmen at the time because she hardly ate lunch anyway) had gathered together and decided to run from the whole situation to tell one of the teachers about it, even though Joe and Shannon had been eager to get in on the action. The matter was taken care of in a matter of minutes, leaving Mr. Winguard red in the face and Ms. Sherman with only half of her voice the next morning. 

Ever since then, the group had bonded more tightly outside of just classes and were now far closer than they had been before that point in their freshman year. They had stuck together, stayed with each other, and watched each others’ backs, forming a loyalty stronger than anything that _should_ be formed from stopping a food fight in a cafeteria. If nothing else, their loyalty had been to each other.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

“Is this something I should be concerned about, or…?” Myers asked, narrowing her eyes and looking around the table in suspicion.

“We were…” Serena started, faltering slightly.  
Nick heard her hiss very quietly through her teeth; something she always did when she was trying to think.  
“W-we were just talking about… our... homework from Ms. Sherman’s class!”

Good _job_ , Serena… 

“Yeah! You know how she is!” Shannon chimed in. “Always giving us more _work_.”

“Lots of hard work.”

“Just all the… _writing_ and… and _Shakespeare_ …”

“She’s always got us doin’ stuff~! And… more _stuff_.”

Very convincing.

“It’s super complicated!”

“So many _technical_ terms…”

“And we were just… you know! Trying to help each other with-”

“Oh, for _crying_ out!” Carmen groaned unattractively before swiftly turning and looking Mrs. Myers in the eye, “They were talking about how they think Ms. Sherman has a boyfriend because apparently she was writing some sort of love letter during English, and then Joe said something about sex!”  
All eyes had turned to Carmen as she spoke, many of them wide and mouths hanging open in disbelief and utter betrayal.

Myers, meanwhile, stood there eyeing her with a strange look, looking more perplexed and confused than anything else. Well, she definitely didn’t look angry. That was _something_... right?

“You…” Myers started, blinking several times she worked to process everything that Carmen had said. She slowly slid her eyes back over to the rest of the group. “...think that Ms. Sherman has a... _boyfriend_?”

“Well…”  
“We saw her writing a letter in class!” Mabel reasoned, “And she was _really_ focused on it! She wasn’t even watching us work! And then she asked us to help her on a sentence, and the ones that she liked were really _flowery_ and stuff! So… you know…”  
Myers raised her eyebrows a bit at that, a knowing glint in her eye that hid just under her perplexity of the situation.

“We don’t mean to be rude, Mrs. Myers.” Serena shrugged, pulling at an absent strand of hair, “We just… we’re curious, and… we were wondering if she was in a relationship or not.”

“And _why_ would you want to know _that_?” Myers asked.

The table was reluctant to answer. 

“Because it’s… interesting?” Denise suggested while shrinking away.

“I mean, _come on_ , _Ms. Sherman_ having a boyfriend?” Mabel pointed out, “Why _wouldn’t_ we wanna know about that?”

“You don’t even know if she has one, Mabel.” Nick countered from his spot at the side of the table.

“I see that _you’re_ skeptical about it, Nick.” Mrs. Myers stated in slight interest.

“Nick thinks we’re crazy.”

“No, I don’t, I’m just _saying_ that you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” Nick said, “So _what_ if she was writing a letter during class? So what if _Valentine’s Day_ is tomorrow? It doesn’t have to mean anything…”

“Poor sport…”

“Well, for the record, I think Nick is right,” Myers stated, looking around the table at each student gathered there. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions because of _one_ thing, especially if it’s about one of your teachers. I get that you’re all curious, and I think it’s good to be, but you _have_ to know where to draw the line. Alright?”

“Yes, Mrs. Myers.”

“Sorry, Ms. Myers...”

“Right, Carmen?”

“Oh, yeah, totally…”

“Good.” Mrs. Myers said to the rest of the table, “And because I’m not Ms. Sherman, I’ll just let you all off with a warning. Don’t try to dig into your teachers’ personal lives - not matter _how_ curious you are. If we want to tell you something about ourselves, we will.”

“And Ms. Sherman’s sure as hell not gonna tell us anything.”

“Language, please, Mr. Vegas.”

“Sorry…”

“And, also, please refrain from talking about your teacher’s sex life. That’s private… and also kind of gross.” Mrs. Myers added in, never taking her eyes away from Joe, who clearly got the message.

“You got it, Mrs. Myers!” Joe said while snapping fingers guns at her, “Consider me Purged of Sin! I will speak nothing but good things!” Joe dramatically drew a cross from his forehead to his shoulders for emphasis.

Purged of Sin… Yeah, _right_  
With one last glance around the table, Mrs. Myers took her leave, exiting the Cafeteria through one of the many sets of stairs that lead into the large space, and leaving the group of children to stare after her. 

“Way to go, Joe.”

“What did _I_ do?!”

“ _You_ were the one who made us start screaming!”

“And _Carmen_ was the one who ratted us out!”

“Don’t you blame me for this, you pervert!!”

And so, the arguing commenced, leaving Nick, Serena, and Denise as the only few who was still silent and not fighting with each other. Slowly, Nick raised his hand to his face and shook his head in exasperation.  
All he had wanted to do was write his English assignment…

 

~*~

 

Roberta Myers was a very modest person, and would never claim that she knew more than she actually did. This, of course, made her a sucker in discussions on topics that she had hardly any knowledge of, and also a failure at Poker (as Esther had been so _kind_ to point out) due to her own inability to keep her face neutral.  
Therefore, Roberta could not always give ample feedback or add to certain conversations very well.  
However, while her knowledge in some fields was limited, there were three things that she knew - and would always know - in absolute certainty; the principles of acting, the menus of every fast food restaurant within a seven-block radius of her and Roger’s apartment, and that Esther Sherman would _never_ have a boyfriend.

Listening to the kids talk about the mere _idea_ of Esther having a boyfriend had almost had Roberta doubled over in laughter, but she had smartly refrained from doing so, simply choosing to vaguely disprove their theories. Whether they had actually taken it that way, though, was another thing, and she thought that she _maybe_ could’ve been a little more clear on what she was implying. Or a lot. However, she had wanted to stick with what she had said - if their teachers wanted them to know something about them, they would tell them themselves. So she wasn’t just going to tell them flat-out that Esther didn’t have a boyfriend…  
But now that she thought about it, slowly feeding herself forkfuls of leftover mashed potatoes from the night before in the Teacher’s Lounge, maybe she should’ve been a _bit_ more upfront about it.

With that thought, Roberta’s eyes made their way over the to the other two teachers who had decided to join her in the lounge that day, Martha Sheinkopf and Greta Bell. Esther was nowhere to be found, which wasn’t unusual given her secluded nature and her dislike for the Teacher’s Lounge after Steven’s incident with the egg salad. That was something they all agreed to never speak about again, lest they should all go down for it at the hands of Principle Hendricks.  
Esther’s absence at the moment was good, in this case. That meant she could break the news to Greta without Esther having a fit over it.

“So…” Roberta spoke up through the comfortable silence of the lounge, “Our students think that Esther has a boyfriend now.” 

There was the sound of what could’ve been a spit-take, causing Roberta to glance over briefly at Martha who had coincidentally been taking a sip of coffee at that moment and had partially sprayed it on her bright pink skirt. But that definitely didn’t seem to be Martha’s concern as both she and Greta stared at her, eyes wide and locked on Roberta as she now sat awkwardly while still feeding herself leftover mashed potatoes like her life depended on it.

“T-they think she has… _what_?” Martha asked, absent-mindedly recovering from almost choking on coffee.

“A boyfriend…” Roberta repeated, though more quietly this time. She didn’t dare make eye contact with either of them, lest she be forced to fully realize her own grave mistake of not making communication with her students.

“And... _why_ would they think she has a boyfriend?” Greta asked incredulously, closing the magazine that had been open on her lap while gazing at Roberta in confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t know!” Roberta said defensively, “Apparently they saw her writing some ‘sappy’ letter during English, and now they’re convinced she’s got a boyfriend - because I _guess_ that’s the only possible answer…”

“To them, _it is_!” Greta reasoned, “Ugh…God, I’ve _told_ her! She can’t just write personal things during _work hours_!”

“Yeah, I imagine that it’s _very_ personal…” Roberta commented with a knowing smile and raised eyebrows.  
Greta flushed before making a gesture with her foot. Roberta was sure that if they were sitting closer, Greta would’ve kicked her.

“How did you find out that they knew?” Martha asked. She had seemingly realized that she had spilled coffee on herself, and was now using a damp napkin from the flower vase on the table to clean it off.

“Nick, Serena, Joe, Mabel, and a few of their friends were in the cafeteria, started screaming because Joe said something-”

“Not surprising…”

“-and so I went to tell them to keep it down! But then I heard that they were yelling about one of their teachers, and Carmen was the one to tell me that they were talking about Esther having a boyfriend!”

“And? What did you say?”

“I told them not to make assumptions…”

“So you told them that she _doesn’t_ have a boyfriend?”

“Weeelll…”

“Spit it out, Robbie!”

“No, I didn’t! I just said that they should keep out of her business! And that if _we_ want them to know anything about ourselves, then _we’ll_ be the ones to tell them… and I didn’t want to speak for Esther - you both _know_ she hates it when people do that.”

“That’s fair, I _guess_ , but we can’t just let them keep thinking that!” Greta protested, “...Can we?”

“It depends.” Martha reasoned, “What do _you_ want to do?”

Greta sighed in frustration and leaned her head into her head.  
“I don’t know…” she said, “I could always talk to them, but, again, Esther hates it when people do that…”

“And there’s nothing stopping her from hearing about it.” Martha pointed out, unhelpfully, “She hears _everything_ that goes on around here.”

“I know.” Greta agreed, “And she’s not going to be happy about it because she hates rumors, too. _And_ it’s even worse, because it’s _Valentine’s Day_ tomorrow and-”

Greta suddenly paused mid-sentence, mysteriously falling silent as a thought seemed to occur to her. Martha and Roberta briefly exchanged glances, with Martha giving her sister a sarcastic raise of her eyebrow. Roberta shrugged her shoulders dramatically, promptly ignoring her sister and trying even harder to ignore that she had no more mash potatoes to stuff into her mouth so that she could try to avoid part of the situation.

“Hey, Martha…” Greta suddenly said, drawing the sisters’ attention back to her. Greta was sitting as she had been, legs crossed and one arm resting on the arm of the chair. But now she held her fingers suspended near her mouth, as she usually did when she was thinking - and, from the suspiciously sly look on her face, it seemed that she had come up with a solution.

“Yeah?”

“What time is that flower shop on 5th open ‘till?”

“Uhh… Six o’clock, I think.”

“And they sell carnations right?”

“You’d have to check, but I _think_ they do… Why?”

“Because, “ Greta said vaguely, settling down comfortably ( _very_ comfortably…) into her seat again, “I have an idea.”

“That’s not good,” Roberta said.

“Oh shush!” Greta scolded, “I have an idea, but I _need_ you two to make sure that Esther doesn’t find out about the students.”

“Okay, we can probably manage that.” Martha agreed, “ But... what are you going to do?” 

“You’ll see...” Greta said with a smile.

“Are we going to have to bail you out of jail again?”

“W-what? No!” Greta protested, “It’s _nothing_ like that…”

“ _That’s_ what you said when we bailed you out of jail.” Roberta pointed out.

“Okay, that was _one_ time, and it wasn’t my fault!” Greta explained.

“Tell that to cousin Terry…” Roberta said with a soft roll of the eyes. 

Greta seemed about to argue that point (since she and Terry had long been on good terms even despite Terry’s acquired arson charge), but quickly and calmly refrained herself from doing so. They were getting off topic, and that wasn’t going to do them any good if she wanted to plan to work.  
Sighing, Greta just shook her head and looked pleadingly at Roberta, “Just… can you manage a few of my papers while I head out later? I don’t have much, just some reports from Adam that I have to work on… Please?”

There was no direct answer as Roberta simply looked at Greta from across the coffee table with slight contempt. Greta looked back at her, as though challenging the other woman to… something.  
But the silent standoff didn’t last long, as Roberta’s expression softened and she gave a small shrug and a smile.

“Yeah, sure…” she said, “What _haven’t_ I done for you two?”

“Okay, now you’re making me feel bad.”

“That’s the point.”

Greta just smiled back and shook head.

“Either way, thanks.” she said, “I'll get the flowers when I leave later, and before Esther gets home. I'm just hoping that I can find a vase in the storage closet…”

“There’s probably one in there.” Martha reassured her, wrapping up her used napkin and putting it beside her coffee cup, “If you can’t, you can always ask Sherry at the office - she can find something for you.”

“Thanks, at least I got that covered… Actually getting Esther to the cafeteria tomorrow is going to be a different story...”

“Wait a minute!” Roberta said suddenly, holding up one finger as started in her seat, before looking suspiciously at Greta. “Are you going to pull the same thing you did at your family reunion?”

Greta was silent for a moment but looked away while pursing her lips.  
“...Well, not _exactly_ what we did at the family reunion… But yes.”

Roberta nodded as her suspicions were confirmed, before leaning back in her seat, an amused smirk planting itself on her face.  
“ _This_ will be interesting.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine.”

“They’re _kids_ , you don’t know how they’re going to react.”

“Well, I can’t imagine it’ll be as bad as Uncle Frank…”

Roberta was about to say something else, before she abruptly recalled the story of what happened with Greta’s Uncle Frank at the reunion, and closed her mouth as soon as she had opened it. She hadn’t been at the reunion herself, but she very clearly remembered all the anecdotes and horror stories that had taken place that night. Especially with Uncle Frank…  
No matter how the kids reacted, it could never be as bad as Uncle Frank.  
“Okay, yeah,” Roberta shrugged, “that’s fair.”

 

~*~

 

Ah yes. Valentine’s Day. One of the few days of the year where Nick truly questioned his entire existence. Although, that _was_ almost everyday, but today he was _really_ questioning his existence. Because today, it _meant_ something.

He just couldn’t understand it! What was the point of having _one_ specific day of the year _just_ to say ‘I love you’? You could do that literally _any_ day of the year! Why have a specific day _just_ for that?  
Well, he supposed that free chocolate _could_ be an upside (maybe), but other than that there was no real point for it.

All it _really_ did was give students the excuse to make out randomly in the hallway; he had already seen about ten of these instances so far that day - and it was _10:46_.  
Thankfully, most instances of this had been put to an abrupt halt by Ms. Sherman’s incessant scolding. Nick swore that she had some sort of secret ‘spidey-sense’ that nobody knew about, due to her habit of seeming to know exactly where PDA was happening in the school at any given time of the day.  
Well, at least there seemed to be _someone_ who hated Valentine’s Day as much as he did; or at least hated how mushy everybody got.

Unfortunately, he was not friends with people who shared the same sentiment.  
Like Serena - the romantic that she was - who always found Valentine’s Day to be one of the most ‘special days’ of the year, and would likely be handing out cards to a bunch of different people who she was well acquainted with.

(He himself was included in that list of people, and, while he _did_ detest Valentine’s Day, he still genuinely appreciated the gesture nonetheless)

Or Joe, who would probably be doing unspeakable things later that night suggesting that there were actually girls _in_ this school willing to give him the time of day. Which was unlikely, but Nick had been surprised by less believable things.

Then there was Mabel. Oh, Mabel. 

Mabel usually wasn’t someone who considered Valentine’s Day very much, aside from the chocolates and treats and card from Serena. If anything, she considered it somewhat romantic, although she did agree that you could tell someone you loved them _any_ day of the year. Nick had considered her a kindred spirit in this sense. But after what happened yesterday in Ms. Sherman’s class, there was no doubt in his mind that she was going to be prattling on all day about Ms. Sherman and her ‘boyfriend’ and the ‘letter’ she had been writing to him. 

Lo and behold, she was.

Once first period ended, Nick raced out of History and made his way to his locker, aiming to arrive there before the halls were completely flooded with students (as per usual). And when his locker was finally in sight, he didn’t fail to notice both Mabel and Serena crowded around it, ignoring the other students slowly trickling past them and talking excitedly with each other about… _something_. And he knew what that something _had_ to be.

“Hey! Nick!” Mabel exclaimed as she saw him coming towards the set of lockers, “You’re _never_ going to guess what happened this morning!”

“Please don’t tell me…”

“We’re gonna tell you!”

“Oh no…”

“Okay, okay!” Mabel said excitedly, before turning to Serena, whose cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. With a wild gesture, Mabel pointed at Serena heavily, _subtly_ indicating that Nick should pay attention to her. _Subtly_. “Okay, tell him!”

“Okay, okay! So, I have Ms. Sherman’s class for first period, right?” Serena began, a wide smile on her face.

“ _Oh_ no…”

“No, no, this is good! This is good, I promise!” Serena reassured him. “So, I was walking into her class. And we all know how she hates it when the room is changed around, right? So it’s always the same. But I walked in this morning, and there was a _flower_ in a _vase_ on her _desk_!” 

“W-well, how do you know she didn’t put it there herself?”

“Because when she came into class, she noticed it, and asked where it came from.” Serena explained, “She didn’t know where it came from either. So someone else put it there!”

“Let me guess…” Nick droned, “Her boyfriend?”

“C’mon Nick!” Mabel urged, “Stop trying to _fight it_! Even _you_ have to admit that that’s a little suspicious.”

“ _I_ think it’s kind of romantic…” Serena said with a smile, her face bright.

“Look, Ms. Myers said it wasn’t any of our business.” Nick scolded, getting through the two girls to get to his locker, which had a bright red card loosely taped to it (it had his name written in expert cursive on the front, and very tame home-made designs. He had to be sure to thank Serena when he had the chance), “So what if a flower showed up on her desk? It doesn’t have to concern _us_.”

“Coming from the guy who's never been a relationship before.”

“Neither have you, Mabel…”

“And how do you know?”

“Because you’ve told me multiple times; ‘a boy is good, but he ain’t no cookie’!”

Serena snorted and doubled over where she stood.

Mabel shrugged. “Hey, it’s true! If I’m ever going to go out with a guy, there _better_ be free dinner involved!”

“Isn’t that just common sense? For there to be dinner?” Serena asked, glancing over at Nick as he shut his locker with his Acting Textbook (because drama class needed a textbook for some reason) and Valentine’s Card in hand.

“You would think so, but some guys will surprise you! Like this one guy that Carmen told me about who she went with last year-”  
Rolling his eyes with a fond smile, Nick wandered off with Serena to their next class, Mabel chattering along in tow about her friends’ substantially underwhelming date.

 

~*~

 

Walking into third period, Nick knew what to expect. Aside from the usual that happened almost every day, Nick knew for sure that there was going to be a flower on the desk. Nick also knew for sure that Mabel was going to talk to him about and go off even more about Ms. Sherman’s supposed ‘boyfriend’.  
At this point in the day (and after witnessing several more hallway make-out sessions), Nick had finally decided to make peace with the world. He had looked inside himself and asked, ‘what was he going to focus on today?’ For one, he was definitely not going to focus on the fact that the cafeteria would be handing out dozens of poorly made heart-shaped cookies. For another, he was not going to focus on this whole ordeal that had started yesterday.

Nick had decided that Ms. Sherman’s personal life, no matter what sort of views he had on it, was none of his business. Mrs. Myers had been right - if the teachers wanted to share things about themselves, they would. And Ms. Sherman was never going to share things about herself and her personal life. Therefore, it was none of his, nor anybody else's, business if Ms. Sherman had a boyfriend or not.  
It was highly unlikely, but it was still none of his business.  
Mabel’s theories? None of their business. Ms. Sherman’s personal life? None of their business. The flower on the desk? None of their business.

…

Wait.

As Nick had walked into the English Classroom, he knew _exactly_ what to expect. Everything in perfect order as it usually was (or at least how Ms. Sherman tried to keep it), with the only difference being a single flower in a vase on her desk that had never been there before.  
Except, as he looked towards Ms. Sherman’s desk, Nick specifically remembered Serena telling him that there was only one flower on Ms. Sherman’s desk that morning. Now there were two.

Deep red carnations, perfectly cut and seemingly freshly bought. Nick was no botanist, but he knew symbolism as well as anybody (even if he had a hard time spotting it in literature, but that was a problem for another day), and knew very well that carnations were usually meant to symbolize some form of love or a person’s heart, depending on the color.  
He would admit, that _was_ a bit indicative of something, but, aside from that, the fact that there was more than there had supposedly been earlier said something else. When Serena had been there this morning, there had been one. This one was recent.

“Hey, Mabel…” Nick said as he slid down into his desk beside Mabel.

“Yeah?”

“Serena said there was _one_ flower on Ms. Sherman’s desk this morning, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s what she told me.”

“So then why is there _two_?”

For a moment, Mabel just looked at Nick, her blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she regarded him strangely. Then she finally seemed to understand what he had said because Mabel turned her head towards Ms. Sherman’s desk so fast that Nick was worried she had given herself whiplash. But the resounding gasp (a very long gasp) and the excited look on her face told him that she was fine.

“Oh, _my Lord_ , he _came back_!!”

“Mabel calm down.”

“No! Don’t you see what this _means_?! He’s here! He’s in the building!!”

Many of the other students in the classroom were starting to look towards him, and Nick felt the urge to curl up under his desk and pray for death.  
“Mabel, please-”

“Oh my God, what if it’s one of the teaching staff…?” she stopped her excited bouncing to gasp loudly yet again, “That would make so much _sense_!! He’s _in_ the building!!”

“ _Who’s_ in the building?” Deborah asked with confusion.

“GOD!” Nick shouted desperately, “GOD IS IN THE BUILDING!!”

“Ha!” Joe exclaimed, “Not for long!”

“ _Why_ are you all shouting?!” Came a very familiar voice that could (and did) strike fear in the hearts of men.  
Fearfully, all the children in the room whipped around to face the door. As expected, there stood Ms. Sherman, hands on her hips with a few papers clutched in her right hand, and glaring daggers into the room from behind square glasses. Her mouth was curled in that subtly angry and disapproving frown, while her brown eyes were narrowed dangerously and challenging anyone to make a move. If only looks could kill...

“Sit. Down!” Ms. Sherman demanded, startling the students into action. All the remaining students who had been standing scrambled into their seats, while the rest who had already been sitting sat twiddling their thumbs and waiting for the inevitable scolding that was surely on its way. With Ms. Sherman, it was always hard to tell whether she was going to yell at them or let them wallow in their own guilt and shame in silence. Both methods were used whenever things got out of hand, and both worked exceptionally well.

Satisfied that everyone was seated, Ms. Sherman kept her eyes on the rest of the room as she slowly made her way to her desk, heels clacking menacingly against the tile and making the students fear for their lives. Quietly, she placed the papers she had been holding down on her desk.

“Now, can you act mature enough to make it through class, or do we need to have this talk, _again_?” Ms. Sherman asked, voice hard and cold and filled with annoyance.  
A few of the students silently shook their heads, while others sat not making eye contact or trying to look as small as possible.

“ _Good_.” Ms. Sherman concluded, before turning slightly and quickly organizing the papers into a neat stack again that she would leave to do later after class ended. But as she was raising her eyes to once again address the students, the sight of the flowers on her desk caught her attention. The anger on her face quickly dissipated into confusion, the corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly to openly display her bewilderment. That meant that she didn’t know where the second flower had come from either - but it definitely _hadn’t_ been there when she had left the room briefly after second period.  
She turned to the rest of the class, pointing to the second flower that now rested in the blue vase.

“Who put this here?” she asked, scanning the room with dark eyes. She watched as the students glanced at each other, as they shook their heads and shrugged, as they looked just as confused as she did.

When she didn’t get an answer, Ms. Sherman just shook her head and scoffed. “Whatever…” she muttered to herself. At least it had somewhat calmed her down.

Nick briefly glanced over to Mabel, who was looking back at him with barely contained excitement. He knew exactly what was going through her head at the moment, and he wanted no part of it.  
Instead, he just gave a half-smile and a shrug, before turning back to the front as Ms. Sherman started writing on the board.

 

~*~

 

Nick knew that if he saw _one more_ high school couple making out in the hallway, he was going to lose his shit.  
Normally, he wouldn’t be this close to snapping on any regular Valentine’s Day, as he had never cared for it much anyway and usually always just ignored all the ‘romance’. However, this was definitely _not_ a normal Valentine’s Day, and it was really starting to get on his nerves.  
Nick soon realized that day that he had never been more thankful for Ms. Sherman’s uncanny ability to show up anywhere where people were swapping saliva.

…

Now _that_ was a visual he never wanted to imagine again. Good job, Nick.

After walking away from yet another scene of two students being briefly scolded, Nick finally entered the Cafeteria and made a beeline for the table that his friends were sitting at. All of his usual group was there, chattering away and picking at their lunches; some of them were even regarding the cookies that the cafeteria staff had made for that day. Yes… _this_ was the friend group he could rely on. Most of the time.

“Hey, Nick.” Denise and Serena greeted separately as he plopped down between the two of them. 

“Hey…” he said tiredly as he unzipped his bag to pull out his lunch.

“So, how many people have you seen kissing in the hallway today?” Denise asked as she inspected her potato salad.

“ _Too many_...” Nick groaned, “Do people have _nothing_ better to do with their lives?”

“Well it _is_ Valentine’s Day.” Serena said with a half-hearted shrug.

“Ah, yes, the Day of Love!” Joe announced dramatically, lifting one his legs onto the bench with a flourish, “One of my favorite days of the year!”

“Oh, gee, I can’t imagine why…” Carmen deadpanned.

“I wonder if Ms. Sherman gets paid extra for yelling at people in the hallway…” Shannon wondered aloud.

“You mean just for today or every day?” Mabel asked, “‘Cause she does _a lot_ of yelling.”

“I guess even Valentine’s Day can’t put her in a good mood…” Denise said with a shrug.

“I thought she _was_ in a good mood...” Serena said thoughtfully.

“With the flowers on her desk, you’d think,” Joe said.

“Where did those even come from, anyway?” Denise asked.

“Denise, no,” Nick whispered, the dread in his voice overwhelming.

“Probably from her boyfriend.” Serena said, “I don’t know anyone else who would give her flowers unless it’s some secret admirer.”

“ _I_ think it’s one of the teachers.” Mabel told them, “There was a second one that showed up on her desk when we got to third period!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Who do you think it is, then?” Shannon asked, interested.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!” Mabel declared deviously, “There’s _got_ to be one of the guy teachers who got a letter on his desk!”

“This is high school, there’s _always_ letters and papers on the teachers’ desks.” Serena pointed out.

“Yeah, but we ask around!” Mabel added, “See which one of the teachers got a… _suspicious_ letter this morning…”

Nick slowly breathed in. Counted to three. And released. He was not going to pay attention to this conversation. No, no he was not. It was none of his business.

“Mr. Langdon and Ms. Sherman? No way, that would _never_ happen!”

“Well, you don’t know what kind of guys she’s into!”

“Neither do you-”

“Did you kids _really_ hear _nothing_ that I said yesterday?” 

Where did she even _come_ from?!  
Jumping from the intrusion into their conversation, all of the kids at the table turned to see Mrs. Myers standing behind them, similarly to how she had done yesterday. She didn’t look confused this time, but she seemed to know _exactly_ what they were talking about, so there was no surprise there. However, she didn’t look angry, as one would expect her to after they had failed to listen to her previous advice. It was hard to figure out what her expression meant, but the group figured that it wouldn’t be hard to figure out, all things considered. Eyebrow raised and looking around the table with her mouth in a thin line, Mrs. Myers was most certainly not impressed, maybe even a little disappointed (although that depended on how disappointed Mrs. Myers could get). 

“Hi, Mrs. Myers…” Nick greeted as he slumped where he sat.

“Hi.” Myers greeted in return. “So. I overheard what you were talking about, just now. The same thing as yesterday, I assume?” 

“Weeeelll…” Mabel began.

“Yeeeaahh…” Serena finished for her before Mabel could try and deny it.

Mrs. Myers sighed and shook her head, looking as though she were thinking to herself for a moment.  
“Well, why this time?” she asked.

The group was genuinely surprised by this; Nick possibly even more so.  
Mrs. Myers wanted to know why they were talking about it again? Instead of just… telling them to stop? Scolding them? Leaving them off with a warning? Sending them to the office because of something Joe would probably say?

“Well?” Myers asked, waiting patiently.

A few pairs of eyes around the table exchanged curious and wondering glances at each other, as though they were trying to make a decision without using words. However, their friendship was not strong enough to form a telepathic link (yet), so it was just up to chance at this point.

“We…” Serena began reluctantly. She paused, thinking of her next words carefully, before continuing. “Well, we saw some flowers on Ms. Sherman’s desk this morning.”

“Flowers?”

“Yeah, they weren’t there yesterday,” Serena explained.

“She even asked us who put them there, but none of us knew,” Denise said.

“So, you know!” Mabel laughed nervously, “Just having… flowers suddenly appear on your desk on Valentine’s Day is… kinda _weird_?”

Mrs. Myers raised her eyebrows as she listened to that explanation. 

“Well, I’ll admit, that _is_ a bit weird.” Myers reluctantly agreed, “But didn’t I tell you all yesterday that _our_ private lives are none of your business? And that if we want to tell you something about ourselves, we’ll tell you?”

“Yes, Ms. Myers…”

“Sorry, Mrs. Myers.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. You just to learn that gossiping and rumors aren’t good.” Mrs. Myers said with a shake of her head. The group shrugged and nodded, confirming their understanding. Suddenly, Mrs. Myers directed her attention to somewhere over her shoulder, before turning directly to where her eyes were focused.  
“Oh, there they are,” she said.

Confused, all the kids turned to look where Mrs. Myers had been looking, and immediately froze in fear as they saw who was walking down one of the main staircases leading into the cafeteria, walking towards _them_. The ‘clack’ ‘clack’ of two pairs of little-heeled shoes was suddenly _very_ overwhelming over the bustling noises of the cafeteria.

Walking towards them now, currently in loose conversation with each other (probably about Tyrone's grades or something), was Ms. Bell, dressed in her usual attire that made all of them shiver from how cold it must be, and, following in pace, Ms. Sherman.

This was where the panic began to set in, as faces paled and dread settled in seven different stomachs.  
This must’ve been Myers’ plan all along. She must’ve known they wouldn’t be able to let the subject drop, that they would keep talking about it the following day. And knowing this, she ratted them out to Ms. Sherman despite what had seemed like a promise of confidentiality. She must’ve! And now they were all going to get the scoldings of their lives handed out to them by their tiny, raged-filled English Teacher.

“I’ve never felt so betrayed…” Joe whispered hoarsely to Mabel beside him. She placed a hand on his arm in comfort as they awaited their doom.

“Nope. I’m not doing this.” Carmen said hurriedly as she moved to stand.

“No, Carmen, you stay for this! This is important.” Myers told her, gesturing for her to sit back down. Carmen did as she was told, lips pressed tightly together and staring forward in silent defiance.

“For the record, I had nothing to do with this…” Nick whispered to the two girls beside him.

“Neither did I, I was just trying to enjoy my lunch!” Denise said, sounding as though she were about to cry.

“It’ll be okay, I’m sure they’ll let us share a dorm in the afterlife.”

It didn’t take long for Ms. Sherman and Ms. Bell to reach the table, the two women being pulled out of their brief conversation as they approached.

“Hey, Greta. Hi, Esther.” Myers greeted calmly, making her way over to stand beside Ms. Bell.

“Hello, Roberta.” Ms. Bell said with a smile, “How are things down here?”

“Eh, they could be better.” Mrs. Myers said with a spared glance at the kids, “I was just talking to this group about our next unit in acting - most of them are in my class.”

Wait, what?

“Good to hear.” Ms. Bell smiled, “I just came across Esther in the hallway, yelling at a few kids.”

“They need to learn to keep their hands to _themselves_.” Ms. Sherman protested sharply, “At least these ones-” she gestured briefly to the table, “-behave properly.” There was a brief pause as the English teacher pursed her lips in thoughts, before tilting her head. “Well…” her eyes settled very obviously on Joe, “ _Most_ of them…”

Joe clicked his tongue and snapped some finger guns at her. He lowered his hands as she continued to glare at him.

“Well,” Ms. Bell said as she looked around the table herself, her arm briefly hitting Mrs. Myers as she shifted her hands behind her back. “I guess you’re all doing alright today?”

“Aside from all the kissing in the hallway? Great.” Nick said.

“ _Thank you_...” Ms. Sherman with a gesture in his direction. 

“Well, Valentine’s Day isn’t for _everybody_.” Ms. Bell said with a small laugh, “I’ve always found it rather… romantic, myself.”

“You don’t say…” Ms. Sherman muttered with a soft roll of her eyes.

Nick noticed Serena smile briefly at this.

The kids briefly glanced at each other, wondering where exactly this was supposed to be going. They had fully expected, the moment that they saw Ms. Sherman and Bell, that Mrs. Myers had told their teachers about their conversations the previous day and that they were going to be in for a world of trouble. That was the only thing that could’ve made sense. But, judging by what she had told the two teachers, Mrs. Myers hadn’t said anything to them. So then if Mrs. Myers _hadn’t_ ratted them out to the rest of their teachers and they _weren't_ going to get chewed out by one (if not two) of the most terrifying teachers in the school… then what were Ms. Sherman and Ms. Bell _doing_ here?

“Are we done here?” Ms. Sherman asked suddenly, looking over at Ms. Bell, “I’ve got papers to grade and more ‘young love’ to stifle.”

“Of course,” Ms. Bell said with a smile and a barely contained laugh. 

Taking this as her leave to go, Ms. Sherman nodded and turned to head back in the direction of the stairs.  
Well… _That_ was underwhelming. Maybe once Ms. Sherman actually left is when they would actually get the scoldings of their lives from Ms. Bell. Yes, that would-

“Oh!” Ms. Bell suddenly spoke up not a moment later, stopping Ms. Sherman in her tracks just as she made to leave. The group watched as Ms. Bell smiled sheepishly, bashfully pushing part of her short fringe out of her face, one hand still tucked assumingly behind her back, “Sorry, I almost forgot. I have something for you, Esther, before you go…”  
Sighing, Ms. Sherman turned back fully Ms. Bell again, her expression slightly irritable yet patient nonetheless. She raised her eyebrows while the rest of her face stayed in its usual stoic stance, silently and effortlessly gesturing for Ms. Bell to continue.

“Yes?” Ms. Sherman asked.  
Ms. Bell smiled charmingly yet again, but there something about this time. _Something_ , but it was difficult to say what.  
“This,” Ms. Bell said, with a knowing smile, “is for you.” With a dramatic flourish that only the teachers could attain, she brought her other hand out from behind her, holding it out to Sherman with something clasped gently between her lithe fingers.

Nick could not _believe_ what he was seeing.

In Ms. Bell’s hand, which she had previously had hidden behind her where they couldn’t see it, was a flower. A delicate but beautiful little thing. A single, deep red carnation, freshly bought and expertly cut. It looked much like the ones that they had seen on Ms. Sherman’s desk earlier that day.  
In fact, it looked _exactly_ like the ones they had seen on Ms. Sherman’s desk earlier that day… 

…

Oh.

_Oh_.

“O-oh.” Ms. Sherman sputtered out abruptly, slowly reaching up and taking the flower by the stem where Ms. Bell held it. Their hands froze there, lingering for only a moment before parting. It was brief, but the kids had seen it. Suddenly, they were seeing _everything_.  
Ms. Sherman held the flower in front of herself, brown eyes inspecting it critically and reluctantly, and she seemed quite unsure what to do with it. Clearly, she had come to the same realization. “Th-thank you… Greta…”

Ms. Bell smiled warmly, a dash of pink dusting her pale cheeks. “You’re welcome,” she said, gazing fondly at the other woman for a moment before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on Ms. Sherman’s cheek.

_OH_.

Ms. Sherman started and nearly seemed to jump out of her skin as though in fear and shock, a gasp escaping her as she suddenly raised her head. But as her face lit up and she flushed a flattering crimson color along her cheekbones and the tips of her ears and even down her neck, it was clear that fear and shock had _nothing_ to do with it.

The group could only watch the scene before them as their mouths hung open, almost not being able to believe what was going on. Because… Ms. Sherman… and _Ms. Bell_?!

Though while the students themselves were shocked, Ms. Bell looked quite content with herself, gazing at Ms. Sherman from the side as if… as if… 

“I’d also like to thank you for that _lovely_ letter you wrote me yesterday, Esther.” Ms. Bell said kindly, deliberately glancing towards the table, “It was _very_ nice of you!”

“O-oh…” Ms. Sherman stuttered as she realized that she was being spoken to, “U-um… yes. Um…I… Um...” But there were no words that Ms. Sherman was able to say properly, too caught up in her surprise and flustered self as she tried to focus her eyes on _anything_ that wasn’t another living person. And as she did so, the shorter woman slowly raised her shoulders and pulled the carnation more towards herself and in front of her face, almost as if she were trying to hide behind it and conceal the loss of her stoic mask. It wasn’t working.  
For the students, if it was an unimaginable sight to behold because Ms. Sherman was _never_ speechless, and she most certainly _never_ hid behind anything or anyone. Their tiny English Teacher suddenly looked _a lot_ tinier, and it was almost… cute. If that were a word that could be associated with Esther Sherman. Ms. Bell probably thought that, yes, it was.

“Well, seeing as how we’ve made our point,” Ms. Bell announced to the group suddenly, before looking up at Mrs. Myers, “I think that Esther and me will be going now.”

“Esther and I…” Ms. Sherman corrected flatly from where she stood.

“Have fun.” Mrs. Myers said with a knowing smile, not looking shocked in the least as Ms. Bell gently took Ms. Sherman’s hand in her own and lead her back towards the stairs, allowing Esther time to recover from her flabbergasted state as they climbed their way back up to and through the doors, before disappearing entirely from sight.

Mrs. Myers watched them go, and, once the two women were gone, looked back at the table with her eyebrows raised and a devious gleam in her eyes. The students looked back at her, dumbfounded.  
“I told you,” Myers said with a shrug, “you _shouldn’t_ assume things.”

Several pairs of eyes went back and forth between other pairs, to Mrs. Myers, to the direction where the two teachers had just left, and everywhere else they could imagine. The table itself seemed a very interesting place for some, while Mrs. Myers herself got a few pairs of eyes trained on her, desperately seeking answers that they weren’t able to voice.  
Unsurprisingly, Joe was the one who was able to find words first, as he almost leaped across the table, hands planted firmly on the mildly sticky surface as he gaped at Mrs. Myers.

“Wait, are they _dating_?!” Joe asked, making several more of the others look towards Mrs. Myers for an answer as well. Really, that sort of question _should_ have an obvious answer at this point, but… 

At this suggestion, Mrs. Myers scoffed and shook her head irritably.

“ _No_ , Joe, don’t be _ridiculous_!” she scolded, looking away briefly back towards where Sherman and Bell had left and was silent for a moment. Then she looked back at them, all annoyance gone from her face in the blink of an eye, and said, “They’ve been married for five years.”

“WHAT?!”

“Joe, calm down.”

“So…” Mabel started slowly, “The letter… _wasn’t_ for Ms. Sherman’s… _boyfriend_. It was… for her _wife_. Ms Bell… _Ms. Bell_ is her _wife_!” With that, Mabel’s face plunged forward atop her tupperware.

“You know, _now_ that I think about it,” Serena said thoughtfully, “That honestly makes _so_ much sense.”

“Explain.”

“Well, they fight like an old married couple.” Serena raised her hand to count things off on her fingers, “They usually stand _really_ close when they’re together… Ms. Sherman _only_ smiles at Ms. Bell-”

“Well, not _only_...” Denise reasoned, and Serena shrugged.

“You know what I mean…”

“Well, Nick…” Mabel breathed as she looked over from where her head was placed on her lunch, “You were right… Ms. Sherman _doesn’t_ have a boyfriend…”

“This isn’t what I meant, but, okay…” Nick said slowly as he nodded.

“Our teachers are gay.” Joe said bluntly, holding his hands out in front of him as he seemed to fight to process this information, “Our teachers are gay… for _each other_.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Mrs. Myers shrugged.

“Okay, okay, so, Mrs. Myers, level with me here!” Joe said as he gathered himself, “I need you to be straight with me, okay?”

“Well, I don’t think she can be gay with you, so…”

“Shut up…”

“Yes, Joe?” Myers asked, interrupting what had looked like a brewing argument between Joe and Shannon. 

“So…” Joe began, “Ms. Sherman and Ms. Bell are… together…”

“Yes, Joe, they’re married.”

“They’re… _gay_.”

“Yes, and it's not a dirty word.” 

“And that’s… _okay_?”

“The way I see it? Yes.” Myers said, “And trust me, I know there’s a lot of people who will tell you that it’s _not_ okay. Maybe some of _you_ think it’s not okay. Maybe your parents do, or your relatives, or even some of your classmates. But, whatever the case, here at P.A. we respect all kinds of differences, no matter what they are, whether you look differently, or _love_ differently. Therefore, I ask that, even if you don’t _approve_ of it, that you at least _respect it_. Because I’ve known Greta and Esther for years, and nothing is changing there. _Trust me_.”

“Hell, I’m all for it.” Carmen shrugged dramatically.

“I think it’s _cute_.” Serena cooed.

“So it’s _actually_ okay, then?”

“Yes, Joe. It’s okay.”

“Oh… Huh...” Joe said slowly as he sat properly in his seat again, a strange look on his face as he gazed off into the distance, mulling over something.

Nick and Mabel briefly exchanged eye contact at this, both knowing full well what Joe was thinking about at the moment. Personally, Nick thought that Joe’s realization of this was _long_ overdue.  
For the first time in his short life, Nick considered that, maybe, Valentine’s Day wasn’t _as_ bad as he had always thought it was. _Maybe_.

 

~*~

 

Greta had known from the minute that her plan had come to mind that Esther was going to be at least a little bit mad at her for it.  
Whenever she made a decision that concerned the two of them, Greta always considered Esther and her feelings on something, no matter if it would affect greatly or hardly at all. And this decision was no different. She had thought of this plan carefully, discussing certain parts with both Martha and Roberta and constantly factoring in all of the different reactions that Esther would have to it since it _directly_ involved her without her knowing. Even as emotional as she was (though Esther would forever deny it) there was only so many ways that Esther could react, and Greta had considered them all. The one thing she knew for sure, however, was that Esther was going to be mad at her. Probably not for very long, as she and Esther had never been able to be angry at each other for long in all of their years of knowing one another, but she would still be mad nonetheless. Not about being outed to some of her students - Greta already knew that Esther didn’t care what they thought about her, as her authority was already set in stone and uneasily changed. No, Esther would be mad about the fact that Greta hadn’t told her about this plan beforehand or given her any insight as to _why_ it had happened in the first place. Esther _hated_ not knowing things.

…

Well, she hated a lot of things, really, but not knowing things was one of the big ones, and Greta knew that she would pay the price.  
Even still, Greta rarely had the chance to see Esther get openly flustered about something to the point where she was trying to hide. Sure, she would do that subtly when they were alone sometimes, but never actively trying to hide her face behind a flower of the same color. It was cute, though Esther would go to great lengths to deny it. 

The moment that the two of the left the cafeteria, both of them made a beeline towards Esther’s classroom. Esther herself had finally regained her composure enough to walk down the hall without looking like she was about to die from embarrassment, and was now the one mostly pulling Greta along with her. Greta simply let her, noting that Esther didn’t try to let go of her hand - she just pulled her towards the classroom, and Greta followed in step.  
Esther practically slammed the door open and marched quickly inside, Greta following in tow, before closing the door with nearly just as much intensity. And she stayed there for a moment, hand lingering on the door handle and breathing heavily, winded from their quick pace and probably building up the fury that Greta fully expected. Greta folded her hands together in front of her, watching Esther carefully as the other woman settled herself.

“Esther?” Greta spoke softly, rocking slowly from side to side, “... I’m really sorry. I know I didn’t tell you, but-”

“Didn’t tell me _what_ , Greta?” Esther ground out as she whipped around to face her wife, “That you were going to do… _that_ in front of some of our students, in the _middle_ of the cafeteria?! A little warning would’ve been nice!”

“I know.” Greta said in acknowledgment, “And I’m really sorry…”

Esther scoffed and walked past the dance teacher, heels clacking against the floor, and gently placed the flower in her hands with the rest in the vase before turning back to Greta.

“You know I don’t care if they know.” Esther said, “I don’t care _who_ knows, at all! But I’d appreciate it if you told me what you were going to do before you do it so that I don’t react like…” Esther faltered for only a moment, her cheeks red in frustration, “ _that_!”

“I know.” Greta said again, slowly making her way over to her wife, “And I _did_ think about it, _really_ hard. And I _knew_ that you would be mad at me for not telling you. But…” Greta shrugged lightly, “...I guess I just didn’t want you to find out what they were saying about you, and freak out. Because you have a tendency to do that sometimes.”

“And _what_ were they saying about me?” Esther asked, flinging one of her arms in the air in an exasperated gesture.

“A few of them saw you writing that letter that you gave me…” Greta explained, “You were writing it during _class_ , and a few of them noticed. Not to mention that you apparently asked for help one part, which was an even bigger giveaway.”

“So then they already knew?” Esther asked, impatience growing, “What’s your point?”

“ _No_ , Esther, they didn’t know about _us_.” Greta explained, “They _thought_ they knew about you and someone else. Basically, they… thought you had a boyfriend.”

Esther almost laughed at that, the sound emerging partially before she smothered it with the back of her hand. Greta smiled at that.

“And,” Greta continued, “Roberta, being the genius that she is, tried to tell them to mind their own business, but didn’t actually say that you _didn’t_ have a boyfriend. And, well…” she shrugged her pale shoulders, “I know that you hate people talking for you, so I didn’t just want to tell them that you didn’t without your say so…”

“Oh, and that _isn’t_ what you did back there?”

“Well, _yes_ , it is!” Greta admitted, “But I didn’t want to tell you, because I wanted it to be a surprise! And… I know that you hate that sort of thing, and I _know_ I put you on the spot and embarrassed you… You can be mad at me, I don’t care. But I do care about _you_ , Esther. I know you, and I know that you hate rumors, _especially_ ones about you. And I knew that if you found out about them thinking you have a boyfriend, you’d do… _something_! And, well…” Greta gave her a small smile, stepping closer to her wife until they were shoulder to shoulder, “it _is_ Valentine’s Day.”

By this time, Esther had calmed down from her previous fury. Her expression was calmer now, and she watched Greta as she spoke, never breaking eye contact with her as she spoke. Usually, this was used as an intimidation technique (and it worked), but there were times when it wasn’t. Whenever it wasn’t, it was meant to show sincerity, honesty, and the willingness to listen. Greta knew it very well, and she would always maintain it as Esther did the same, breaking beyond the point of awkwardness and into that familiar, comfortable space that the two of them had made for themselves a long time ago.

“So, I know I crossed a line…” Greta said gently, her face just inches away from Esther’s, “but I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry that I did.”

“You didn’t _upset_ me.” Esther said, turning her head away slightly, “I’d just like to _know_ the next time you plan on doing that. What we pulled at your family reunion is a lot harder when I don’t _know_ about it.”

"Right, because we can't have your students knowing that you're human, now can we?"

"Absolutely not."

Greta laughed and smiled at that. Esther smiled too.

“By the way…” Esther began, looking back over her shoulder to the vase that now held the three flowers, “I do appreciate the sentiment. Dark red carnations; typically symbolizing deep love and affection for someone. And there’s three of them; three is most commonly a lucky number, and in some beliefs, it means ‘strength in unity’. Only someone who _really_ listens to me ramble on about symbolism would know something like _that_...” Esther then looked back at Greta, one eyebrow raised while a small smirk played on her lips. “You really _are_ a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Esther, you know I am.” Greta reasoned, “We’ve been together for _ten years_.”

“Obviously, but _still_.”

Greta sighed and shook her head fondly.  
“You’re cute.”

Once again, Esther’s face flushed a dark red, the compliment rendering her a stuttering mess as she fought to deny it to no avail. Greta giggled in delight, placing her hand on Esther’s back.

“Oh, come on, Esther, you should be used to this!” Greta urged, “You’re _cute_.”

“I-I am… _not_ cute!” Esther protested, turning away and folding her arms over her chest, “I am a... little... _ball of rage_!”

“Yeah, but you’re _my_ little ball of rage.” Greta pressed as she wrapped her arms around Esther’s shoulders, pulling her closer to her. Esther didn’t fight it, even with her standoffish demeanor. After a few moments, Esther finally slumped and turned her face - still red with embarrassment - back more towards Greta so that they were finally looking at each other again. Greta smiled, taking in Esther’s content expression (or as content as her face could get) with all the love in the world, before taking her face in both hands and gently pressing their lips together in a soft, brief kiss.

Considering that they were at work, it would probably be considered unprofessional… it would _definitely_ be considered unprofessional. But, after all, it wasn't like they were doing in front of their classes. And, either way, since when had either of them cared if it was 'unprofessional'?

When Greta pulled away, she stroked her thumb across Esther's cheek, feeling the pleasantly soft skin there, which Esther watched her do with only the slightest raise of an eyebrow. Breaking out of her trance, Greta gave her a light pat on the cheek with two fingers.

“Now, you go grade those papers you were talking about,” she said. "I know how serious you are about."

“Please, don’t talk to me like that.

“You like it a little bit.”

“No, I don’t.”

“A _little_ bit.”

Esther sighed irritably and shook her head.  
“Just… go make sure Myers isn’t traumatizing those kids.” she suggested, placing both hands on her hips and leaning on her right leg, “Or, better yet, make sure _they're_ not traumatizing _her_. I can just imagine all the questions _they_ have...”

Greta smiled and nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you after school.”  
Then Greta left, with a small smile over her shoulder being the only thing she gave before Esther lost sight of her through the door.

Sighing and shaking her head, Esther walked behind her desk and started sorting through the various piles of papers that had accumulated since the previous day, searching for the stack that she had carelessly misplaced. Silently, she cursed under her breath, cursing Greta, and the kids, and the rest of the teaching staff…  
However, there was no real fire under it, other than slight annoyance that left almost as quickly as it came.

Esther paused in her sorting and searching, letting her shoulders slump as another tired sigh left her lips, before raising her eyes back up to look at the three flowers that say peacefully in the vase on the corner of her desk. Gently did she give a small smile, a quirk of the corner of her mouth that could’ve been easily missed if you weren’t looking for it.  
Greta really did know how to peel off the mask that she had built for herself all of these years; how to bring down the walls, and how to open the gate that Esther (before she had met Greta) had thought she had sealed so long ago. It was annoying sometimes, especially when she was trying to be serious. But, even still, she had to admit it was endearing. 

“You are… insufferable.” Esther whispered as she shook her head, lingering only a moment longer on the gift before getting back to the papers in her hands.

“ _So_ insufferable…” But saying that didn’t change the warmth that had blossomed in her chest.


End file.
